


Fierce Request the Downpour

by Zooey_Glass



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: F/M, post-BDM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-26
Updated: 2008-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-02 01:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zooey_Glass/pseuds/Zooey_Glass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written as a birthday gift for Parenthetical.</p><p>Title from Rilke’s <cite>Before Summer Rain</cite>.</p><p><strong>Chinese glossary</strong></p><p> </p><p>•	<i>húlijīng</i> – fox spirits, demons</p><p>•	<i>yin hai</i> – baby, beloved child</p>
    </blockquote>





	Fierce Request the Downpour

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a birthday gift for Parenthetical.
> 
> Title from Rilke’s Before Summer Rain.
> 
> **Chinese glossary**
> 
>  
> 
> • _húlijīng_ – fox spirits, demons
> 
> • _yin hai_ – baby, beloved child

River's been off ship for almost an hour when Mal sets out to look for her. Simon don’t seem concerned – things with River have run smoother since Miranda – but Mal can’t sit easy without he knows the whereabouts of all his crew. He’s responsible now - assumed that burden when he led two good men to their deaths - so he leaves Simon and Kaylee giggling over something in the lounge and sets off from the ship to find his lost bird. He knows Zoe’s watching over the ship; and Jayne over her.

Rain starts falling as he walks into town and he half-expects to meet River coming back out to Serenity, looking for shelter. Mind you, knowing River, she’s as like to be huddling under some kid’s play shelter or playing cards in the local saloon.

She’s doing neither. Mal finds her right in the centre of town, standing out on the walkway above Main Street in the pouring rain. Figures: ain’t no way the little moonbrain is going to wind up somewhere snug and warm if it means Mal’ll miss out on getting drenched. She’s balanced gracefully on the rails of the walkway, rain soaking her dress so that it clings to her delicate frame. She’s no longer the fragile girl-child she was when Mal first opened up that box and found her laying there, but a body can still scarcely credit all the things he’s seen her do.

River’s face is rapt and her gaze steady, despite the water running over her face. She doesn’t react as Mal clomps up the stairs, and for a moment he fears a return to the old River, the one whose lucidity came and went and who was as liable to kill his crew as help them. The thought’s there only for a moment, and then he looks at her again, poised as if for flight on the edge of the walkway, and knows that girl is gone.

He follows the line of her gaze and sees that her eyes are fixed on a celebration in a bar below. The saloon window is crowded with people drinking and dancing, oblivious to the scenes of warfare showing on the screens over their heads. Another rebellion on one of the fringe planets, maybe Alliance news-issue or maybe a screening by one of the new multitude of rogue stations. Bloody propaganda, either way. And where’s the use, with people doing a gorram fine job of doping their own selves.

Mal says none of this – it’s a sight too late to be crying over the ways of the ‘verse – but of course River knows what he’s thinking. Truth be told, most any of his crew would when it comes to this.

‘You’re wrong, you know.’ She turns to him and smiles. ‘We’re still flying’.

Mal feels her body tense next to his, then she launches herself from the balcony. For a moment her body hangs in the air and Mal’s heart seems to stop with it. Then she’s landed, dainty and sure, and is laughing up at the expression on his face.

‘We’re not the only ones, you know!’ she calls up. She’s full of wicked delight at the fright she’s given him, moonstruck visionary changed to cheeky younger sister in one fell swoop.

‘Never would’ve made you crew if I’d known you’d think it gives you a license to torment me. No need to follow the lead of that bunch of _húlijīng_’.

‘Of course not, Captain,’ she says sweet as pie, giving him a look he’s used to seeing directed at Simon. The look that says, ‘I’m but an innocent young girl, what could I possibly be-‘

‘SPLAT!’ Before Mal has time to reflect that he’s never known Simon actually believe that look, his already wet clothes and bedraggled hair are graced with a large dollop of mud.

‘You’ve a nerve, little one. My tenderness for your worthless hide drags me all the way out here in the rain and you reward me with this, you low-down, scheming, good-for-nothing-’

A hurrying passer-bye looks up alarmed when Mal raises his voice, but River isn’t deceived.

‘Not the little one anymore,’ she says, then sticks her tongue out at him. ‘You’re not the king of the castle, either.’ She stoops and scoops more mud, but this time he’s ready for her and manages to dodge her attack. Mostly, at least.

‘That so?’ Mal pulls himself up over the edge of the railing and drops down next to her. ‘Guess I’m the dirty rascal, then.’ His handful of mud hits River full in the face.

* * * * *

They’re both filthy by the time they return to the ship. Simon blanches when he sees their bedraggled, mud-coated state.

‘What happened? Were you attacked? Where have you been, River?’

‘Now Doctor, ain’t no cause for alarm. We got caught in a thunderstorm is all. Anyhows, I noticed your sis had taken a notion to stretch her legs an hour past, ain’t no sense in getting all riled up at this late date.’

River smiles beatifically at Simon. ‘The Captain and I were doing crew-y things. I’m not hurt - we’re just a little uliginous.’

Jayne goggles at this, and Mal hears Kaylee snort with laughter, but Simon doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy checking for signs that River is somehow mistaken about her own well-being and fussing until Mal wishes the guy would give himself a break.

River rolls her eyes. ‘I’m not the _yin hai_ any more,’ she says, and wriggles out of Simon’s grasp. Seeing her head towards the shower, Mal realises she’s bested him for the second time that day.

* * * * *

Mal’s gotten into the habit of checking the bridge before he goes to bed. He doesn’t feel easy in his mind about laying down to sleep without he makes sure that all’s well with the ship, not like he used to. They’re grounded tonight, not going anywhere, but he wanders up anyway.

When he gets there tonight, Zoe’s sitting quiet at the helm. Her presence there is still rare enough that he feels like he’s intruding, but when he turns to go Zoe stops him.

‘I was just heading for my bunk, Captain.’ She rises and turns to smile at Mal, hand resting automatically on the back of the pilot’s seat.

‘He preferred the black, anyway. Liked seeing the stars up close and personal.’

Mal squeezes her shoulder briefly. Zoe nods at him and then raises one eyebrow at the doorway.

‘Seems like I’m the one who’s in the way here, anyhow. You two have got crew-y things to do.’

She’s gone before Mal has a chance to respond, and he realises she’s left him alone with River.

* * * * *

‘Don’t want to do crew-y things.’

River’s tone is faintly petulant, but she’s quickly and efficiently checking over the pilot’s console as she speaks, ensuring that everything is ready for a quick and easy take-off. She’ll like as not be playing the little sister act with Simon until the day they both die, but seeing her here Mal realises how she’s changed. It ain’t just the things she’s seen and done; she fills new lines now, comfortable in her own self.

River finishes her check of the bridge in half the time it would have taken Mal.

‘Everyone’s gone to bed. Shall we have tea?’ She heads for the kitchen without waiting for an answer, and is already putting water onto boil when Mal arrives.

‘You ought to make the tea, since you were the one who was vanquished today,’ she says. ‘But your tea isn’t fit for human consumption, and besides, Simon told me not to let anyone else get their hands on his good oolong.’

‘I’ll wager he won’t be too happy about anyone else getting their lips on it, either,’ Mal says, but River just grins wickedly and goes on getting out the dainty little set of tea things that Simon bought the last time one of their jobs went well. She lays out the tray between them and pours out the tea.

The tiny porcelain cups remind Mal uncomfortably of Inara, but River handles them with none of the formality Inara used. She places them carefully, even ceremonially, but she’s not following any custom Mal can see. It’s more like a complicated game, cups and teapot placed and then considered, moved and considered once more. The way she swirls the water as she makes the first brewing, spilling it out in a complex pattern over the bowl, reminds Mal of how she had once been taken for a witch.

As he thinks this, her eyes meet his, and he worries that she’ll be offended by the thought.

‘More things in heaven and earth,’ she says, and gorramit if that ain’t true. More things in heaven and earth than he’d ever dreamed of seeing, still less in such company.

‘Still more to see, though,’ she says, and laces her fingers with his. The teacup is still in his hand, cradled between their interlocking fingers like one of the bird’s eggs he used to collect as a boy.

‘Ain’t planning to be carried off just yet,’ he says. His breath is caught in his throat. He disentangles their fingers and sets the cup safely back down. River is looking at him intently, and her face has nothing of the moonbrain or the little sister now. It’s something new, and beautiful, and all of a sudden Mal wishes he were the kind of man who’d have the right words to say to that face.

He’s not, and so he leans over and kisses her instead.

There’s one wild moment when he wonders what madness has come over him and thinks of the Shepherd’s special hell. Then River’s kissing him back and her hands come up to hold his face and he knows it’s not like that at all. She’s strong and certain and her body’s pressing against his, bearing him up.

‘I’m not planning to be carried off either,’ she whispers, and Mal knows that she’s as whole as he is.

They’re both still here, and still flying, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.


End file.
